


Suit and Tie

by ghostofgatsby



Series: Stitch by Stitch [4]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Enthusiastic Consent, Hair-pulling, Kissing, Light Bondage, M/M, Suit Kink, Suits, Ties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 16:12:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10312115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofgatsby/pseuds/ghostofgatsby
Summary: Trott smirks and slides his hand up the back of Smith’s neck, fingers sliding into his hair. He clenches his hand sharply and tugs.Smith gasps quietly at the little spark of pleasure-pain that ripples down his spine. “Oh...fuck, yes. Just like that.” He grins back.Trott kisses him bitingly, and nips his bottom lip. “What else do you like?” he murmurs.Smith watches through half-lidded eyes as Trott’s tongue darts out to lick his lips. “Well, I could think of a few uses for that tie,” he replies roguishly.Trott kisses him again, and they stumble towards the bedroom.





	

**Author's Note:**

> cws: mention of drinking, other people smoking. also I guess some light biting.  
> If I need to tag something, let me know.
> 
> I finished writing this instead of sleeping.
> 
> Part of me wanted to know how Smith and Trott became more than friends. Perhaps while walking back from another show Smith has done, lightly buzzed, and Smith kisses him.  
> And then they go back to the apartment and bang. Furiously.
> 
> set after Frayed Thread, but before Ribbons.
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> reblog: https://ghostofgatsby13.wordpress.com/2017/03/15/suit-and-tie-ghostofgatsby

Trott and Smith laugh and stumble into each other as they walk down the street. The temperature fell when the hour grew late, and Smith’s ears are pink because he hadn’t brought his hat with him. After he had finished his acoustic set for tonight’s open mic, he and Trott had stayed a little longer to have a few drinks and talk. They’re slightly buzzed, and Smith leans in without thinking, rests his hand on Trott’s shoulder, and kisses him.

Trott tastes like coffee liqueur and smells like cigarettes from the pub. In the cold, Smith seeks the warmth of him. Trott’s chest is pressed up against his, hidden under a wool coat and layers of finely tailored clothes, and Smith wants to feel their skin touch. But though Trott kisses him back, his hands aren’t touching Smith, and Smith pulls himself away.

They take a shared breath as the kiss breaks. Smith can count each of Trott’s eyelashes. Trott’s brown eyes stare back at him past his glasses. He licks his lips, and Smith wants to kiss him again.

A gust of wind shoves through them a moment later, taking Smith’s exhaled expletive with it as it rushes past. Smith takes a step backwards from Trott and immediately backpedals. "Fuck, I- shit. Fuck, I should have asked if you- probably. Sorry, that was- _fuck_."

Trott’s blank expression morphs into a smile and he laughs. "Smith- Smith, it's fine." He cups Smith’s cheek with a glove. His own face is flushed red from the cold.

"Really?" Smith asks, bewildered. He hasn't pissed Trott off by stepping out of line? They were friends, firstly- it wasn’t more than what Trott wanted from him? His glove is so warm and soft on Smith’s cheek, and his free hand is cupping the back of Smith’s neck. Smith leans into the touch.

"Yeah, it’s fine. You took me a little by surprise, but. Really, sunshine." Trott kisses him tentatively, like Smith’s some kind of chipped china doll, liable to break if Trott’s not careful enough. Smith moans against Trott’s mouth as he kisses him harder. He curls his arms around Trott’s waist, hands settling at his mid-back, but Trott breaks the kiss and pushes him gently away.

“Let’s get back,” he says, and Smith can’t help but smile and agree.

 

Once inside the apartment, Smith quickly unbuttons and pushes the burgundy blazer off of Trott’s shoulders. He kisses him deeply, moaning into Trott’s mouth, and brushes his knuckles down the front of his matching vest. The fabric is smooth to the touch, and Smith desperately wants to blow him, just like this, on his knees at Trott's feet.

He hooks his fingers in the front of Trott’s suit pants and breaks the kiss with a low hum.

“Fuck, Trott. You want to pull my hair? You can totally pull my hair. Would you?”

Trott laughs against his mouth. Smith can feel him smile before he opens his eyes to see it.

“Into that, are you?” Trott smirks and slides his hand up the back of Smith’s neck, fingers sliding into his hair. “Like this?” He clenches his hand sharply and tugs.

Smith gasps quietly at the little spark of pleasure-pain that ripples down his spine. “Oh...fuck, yes. Just like that.” He grins back.

Trott kisses him bitingly, and nips his bottom lip. “What else do you like?” he murmurs.

Smith watches through half-lidded eyes as Trott’s tongue darts out to lick his lips. “Well, I could think of a few uses for that tie,” he replies roguishly.

Trott kisses him again, and they stumble towards the bedroom.

Smith shucks his clothes and tosses them aside, down to his boxers. Trott shimmies out of his suit pants, but Smith bats his hands away from his shirt and undoes it himself, kissing down Trott's neck as he unbuttons. He caresses the skin underneath. Trott loosens his tie and Smith watches the gray silk flutter and spools onto the edge of the bed.

“Fuck, Smith...“ Trott sighs, tugging sharply at Smith’s hair again.

Smith muffles a moan against his shoulder blade.

They tumble into bed together, grinding, grabbing at each other. Trott reaches for the lube on the side table and grabs it on the fourth try.

“Want me to fuck you? Or do you want to fuck me?” His voice is breathless, and Smith’s head spins with the thought that it’s all because of him.

He groans. The slide of his cheap cotton boxers is heavenly against Trott's stupidly expensive silk underwear. The ideas make his mouth water, feeling them both growing more aroused

Fuck, he doesn’t care- his hands, his mouth, he wants it all- all he wants is to be skin to skin and to _touch_.

Smith picks up the lube, can I? fuck you? he asks eagerly, pulling back from where he was worrying a mark on Trott’s collarbones with his teeth to meet his eyes.

“Sounds good to me, sunshine.” Trott grins.

He pecks a kiss to Trott’s lips and slides each of their underwear off, balling them up together and chucking them over his shoulder, making Trott laugh. Smith slowly works him open, while Trott's nails lightly scratch the nape of his neck.

When Smith removes his fingers, Trott rolls them both over and reaches for the tie he’d left at the foot of the bed.

“Alright if I tie your hands?” he asks, gesturing while straddling Smith’s thighs, “You insinuated it earlier, and I thought-”

“Fuck. Oh fuck, yes.” Smith obediently raises his hands above his head.

Trott beams down at him. “Great. Let me know if you want out, yeah? Red for stop?”

Smith nods. “Got it. Fuck, please…”

Trott chuckles and ties his hands together. He slides up Smith’s body and repositions himself, taking Smith in and lining up as he sinks himself down.

Smith moans, jerking involuntarily at the feeling. Trott starts riding him, sliding his hand into Smith’s hair again to tug his head back. He leans down as he rocks his hips forward, kissing Smith’s neck, and Smith’s toes curl against the sheets.

He gasps lightly when Trott’s teeth graze his throat.

“Fuck, this is so good…”

Trott rides him harder. Even though Smith may technically be the one fucking him, Trott’s the one in charge, and that’s something he has absolutely no problems with. He keeps his hands above his head, tied together, and rolls his hips best he can with Trott’s movement.

The pleasure mounts higher the longer the go at it, their breath coming in harsher pants and the sound of skin against skin the only sounds in the room.

“Fuck, Trott. _Trott_ ,” he gasps and groans.

Trott laughs, out of breath, against his cheek. “Come on, Smith,” he goads, and that’s all Smith really needs to send him over the edge, whining a repetitive mantra of “oh fuck, oh fuck, _oh fuck, fuck, fuck,"_ as he comes.

Trott slows, doubling over him and quickly finishing himself off with a hand. He uncoordinatedly extracts himself off of Smith with a muttered curse and slumps down beside him, half against his side, half on top of him.

Smith’s chest heaves as he catches his breath. The air reeks of sex and sweat, and he isn’t sure if he considers it pleasantly sticky or not. He is, however, pleasantly tired and slightly sore.

Trott’s legs are tangled with his. Smith hums when Trott undoes the tie around his wrists and lowers Smith’s arms back to his sides.

“Mmm...you good?” Trott asks, cuddling up against Smith’s side and kissing his cheek.

Smith hums affirmatively and forces himself to roll his head in Trott’s direction so their lips can meet.

“We...have _definitely_...got to do that again,” he mumbles in between kisses.

Trott snorts into the pillow, reduced to a lazy mess of sex-inebriated giggling. “Fuck, _already, Smith?_ ”

Smith grins. “Well. Not right this second. But later?”

“Fucking hell.” Trott hides a smile. “Fine. _Later._ ”


End file.
